


Symbiosis

by Lady_Ganesh



Series: Life in the Schloss [1]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Rosenkreuz, Weissday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-11
Updated: 2008-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crawford and Schuldig meet in Rosenkreuz. Written for Mami-san in the 2008 Weissday challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symbiosis

Jan had always been a strange boy; he smiled at odd things, laughed at jokes that weren't funny, frowned quickly and for no apparent reason.

But when the child turned eleven, his strangeness turned toxic. He claimed he was hearing voices; then, that he was reading minds. His parents considered mental illness, but when his imaginings skirted too close to the truth, they realized he must be possessed.

They consulted the parish priest, and he called in Father Daniel. "He's an excellent exorcist," he explained, "with a sterling reputation."

Father Daniel had an easy smile and kind eyes. "Don't worry," he assured them, touching the crucifix around his neck as if by habit. "Everything will be all right."

Jan was curled in a ball at the end of the bed. "No," he muttered. "Don't let him in. He'll hurt you, he'll hurt _me_\--"

"Now, now," his mother said. "Trust Father Daniel. He'll make you better."

"No," Jan hissed, his blue eyes wide with fear. "Mother, no--"

"Leave us be," Father Daniel said, smiling with the confidence of a professional. "Jan will be fine, I _promise_."

Jan was still screaming as Father Daniel closed the door behind them.

His parents held hands and waited.

No one in the village ever saw the three of them again.

 

~~

 

Tam was easy to work with. He was one of the few Asians at Rosenkreuz, a clever, thin-faced boy who could shut up most people with a single withering glance. He was two and a half years older than Crawford, and had a precise, careful control of his Talent that Crawford admired. He was a good leader, too. Crawford hoped they'd be on the same team once they'd graduated Rosenkreuz.

They were crossing the underground tunnel between the training grounds and the cafeteria when they saw the boy.

He was huddled in a ball on the floor, and looked like a bruise. His hair was a dark, muddy red and his face was smeared with grime. Crawford didn't recognize him; he must be new. "Get out of the way, twerp," Tam said, kicking at him with his foot. "Don't you have a group you're supposed to be with?"

"Too noisy," the boy muttered. "Can't think."

"Fucking psychic, huh? Like we needed more of _those_. Get with your group. You'll have to get used to it if you want to live."

The boy winced.

"Leave him alone, Tam," Crawford said. "He isn't worth it."

The boy looked up. Under all the grease and filth the boy's eyes were an arresting, sharp blue. "You," he said. "You're quiet."

Crawford knew what that meant. Precognitives were maddening to some psychics and a relief to others; to manage a million different futures your mind had to be orderly, spare, sterile. "Go back to your group," he said.

The boy nodded. "Okay," he said, and started getting up.

"He likes you," Tam said, shoving his elbow into Crawford's ribs. "How nice, you have a pet."

"Fuck off," Crawford said, shoving back. "What was your problem, anyway? He's just another kid."

Tam just frowned. "I heard about the new kids."

His tone was not encouraging. "What about the new kids?"

"They haven't gotten enough new Talents. They had to pull them from the Farm."

The Farm was where the damaged ones went; psychics without control, precognitives lost in a tangled future, psychotics and berserkers. If they could be stabilized, they were trained at Rosenkreuz; if they couldn't be, well, there was a crematorium in the back. No one knew exactly how many students were in the Farm, but damn few ever came out.

 

That night, Crawford woke up just as the shadow appeared at the foot of the bed. "No," he said. "Go back to your cot."

"Too noisy," the redhead said. "You're quiet."

"I'd like it to _stay_ quiet," Crawford snapped. "So get out." Even as he said it, his Talent had its own opinion: the boy would make enough noise that the matron would come if he argued too much. And if the matron came....

The boy seemed more animal than human in the faint light from the hallway lamp, but his triumphant smirk was human enough. Crawford sighed and turned over. "Fine," he said into the stiff fabric of his pillowcase. "But I don't know you're here. And if you get caught, it's your ass, not mine."

The boy curled up at the bottom of the narrow bed like a puppy. Crawford fell asleep wondering why the universe hated him.

 

There was a new girl in his group the next morning. Her name was Rain and she was thin and pale. Crawford guessed she'd been at the Farm, too, but he was fairly confident he didn't really want to know.

"So are you American?" Tam asked. "Crawford's American and you sound American. And how come you don't have a last name?"

"I'm from Canada," she said. "I don't remember my last name."

"You a psychic?"

She shook her head. "Hearing," she said, poking at her oatmeal with her spoon.

"Hearing, huh?" Tam grinned. "What's the guy at the next table-- the new kid-- saying?" Crawford knew without looking who he meant; the redhead. Crawford still hadn't bothered learning his name. Psychics usually burned out fast, and his time at the Farm proved he was halfway there already.

She didn't turn her attention from her bowl. "He's saying you're a dick," she said, and the rest of the table laughed.

"He's right about one thing, anyway," Sanders said, and Tam glared at him.

"You can think what you want to," he said sullenly. "I'm still your senior."

"Yeah, yeah," Sanders said. "Do you know what we're supposed to be doing today, Senior? Since you're in charge and all."

"No," Tam said flatly. "I don't."

"Your heartbeat picked up," Rain said. "What are you not telling us?"

"Nothing," he snapped. "I don't _know_."

Rain's smile was sharp and unpleasant.

 

The obstacle course was what had been coming up. "You should have seen this coming," Tam muttered as the metal door snapped shut behind them.

"You should have too," Crawford snapped back. "We have a new team. We should've known they'd want to throw us in here."

The obstacle course changed every time. Their instructors always knew how to adjust the course to take advantage of an individual or team's weakness. With a new girl on the team and hardly any time to adjust, they'd be even more vulnerable.

Crawford pushed up his glasses and tried to concentrate. He'd first started getting the visions when he was ten, but when he hit puberty they'd gotten stronger and more intense. They were still chaotic and unreliable, though; the last two years, when he'd been put with Tam's team, had began to resolve things a bit, but not enough. There were too many options, and sometimes hardly any at all, and his visions weren't always fully reliable.

"Do you hear anyone?" Tam asked Rain, before they started moving. Sometimes they were alone with the physical challenges; sometimes there were other Talents there. It never hurt to check in advance.

Rain nodded.

"Be ready," Tam warned Sanders. Sanders nodded. He was the rarest asset in their team; he could dampen a Talent's ability, and sometimes stop it altogether. He was no leader-- he wasn't particularly smart, and he was a coward at best-- but he was well worth the dead weight he otherwise was when other Talents were involved.

A flash that resolved into a vision; Crawford concentrated. "Tam," he whispered. "It's another pyrokinetic. He'll try to take you out first."

Tam grinned at him. "Understood," he said, and gestured them all forward.

 

"Is it always like that?" Rain asked, when they were through. She looked even whiter than before, and Crawford could see the faint line of sweat on her upper lip.

"Shit, no," Sanders said, grinning. "That was cake." His heavy, light-skinned face was sweaty, too, but he'd contained their pyrokinetic, and Crawford could tell he was pleased with himself. "They'll get harder from there."

"Great," she said sardonically, poking at the floor with her shoe. "So what happens if we screw up in there?"

Tam and Crawford exchanged glances. "Depends," Crawford said carefully.

She looked up at them both. "Oh," she said. _"Great_." She looked over at Crawford. "You protected me back there," she said, reluctantly. "Thanks."

"It's our job," Crawford said dismissively. "We look out for our team."

"You two are on your own tonight," Tam said. "I want to go over some things with Sanders. We should focus on the things he learned today-- I bet he's better at containing me now, too."

Crawford nodded, hiding his pleasure at having time to himself. "Fine."

"So what does that mean?" Rain asked, after the others had left. "Am I stuck entertaining you or something?"

Crawford shook his head. "Free time. Usually I read."

She nodded, and dug a pair of headphones out of her pocket. "Kay. Maybe I'll stop by later."

Crawford nodded. "If you want."

 

There were no private places at Rosenkreuz. The school's pathetic excuse for a library was old, drafty, and worst of all, noisy. Often Crawford had found himself half-wanting a field mission, just so he could go out and get more books to read. Instead, he resigned himself to sitting on his cot and reading _Othello_ for the fiftieth time.

"He kills Desdemona," a nasal, sneering voice announced.

"I know," Crawford said, without looking up. The redhead again.

"And then--"

"I _know,"_ Crawford repeated, shutting the book in irritation. "Even if I hadn't already read it. So fuck off."

The redhead leaned on the end of Crawford's cot. His face was cleaner, at least. "So how far can you see ahead?"

"Enough to know you'll scream like a girl when I hit you with this book."

The redhead grinned, climbing on to the cot. "You're bluffing."

Damn it, the twerp was right. "Why do you keep bothering me?"

"I told you," he said, stretching out over the blanket. "You're quiet. You give me time to think."

"What if I don't give a shit about you needing time to think?"

"Now, now," the redhead said gently. "This is Schloss Rosenkreuz. Aren't we all careful and sober students, working happily together to make the world a better place?"

Crawford laughed out loud at that, and the redhead laughed too. Crawford tested his vision to see what would make him _go away_ and--

Nothing.

_Nothing._

He hissed his breath in in shock. He'd heard of Talents fading, but he was sixteen years old. It wasn't _possible_. He had to see the future, _had_ to, he was worthless without--

"Hey," the boy said, and reached out his arm. "Hey, are you--"

"Stay _away_ from me!" Crawford shouted, and pushed him away. "What are you doing?"

"I'm not doing anything!" The redhead pulled his arm back and frowned. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

And then the world splintered again, possibilities flooding back in, and he could yell, or he could go back to his book, but there were no good short-term strategies to make the boy go away without starting a fight and setting off another, far more unpleasant, chain of actions.

"Just. Don't touch me," he said, finally, pulling up his knees to support his book and increase the distance between himself and the other boy. "And be quiet."

"Fine," the redhead said, and dropped to sleep at the foot of the bed.

He was still sleeping when Crawford shut out his reading light and crawled under the covers.

Rain didn't stop by. Crawford wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved.

 

Rain was a good fighter, and her hearing was a real asset, but Tam's team soon discovered why she'd been sent to the Farm.

"Stop talking about me like that," she said to Tam one morning, her face curled into a reddened snarl. "Or I'll kill you."

"Like _what?"_ Tam looked disbelieving. "I haven't said anything about you."

"Don't give me that," she spat. "I heard you last night."

Crawford and Tam had spent the previous night training together, trying to extend the length and reliability of Crawford's visions. Crawford couldn't remember either of them mentioning Rain at all.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"You said I had _potential,_" she said. "But that I was raw."

Tam raised an eyebrow. "You've only been with us two days," he said. "You _are_ raw."

"I'll kick your ass," she threatened. "Knock it off."

Tam and Crawford exchanged glances. If Rain had been in the women's quarters the night before...she'd been hundreds of yards away horizontally, and twenty or thirty feet vertically. Hearing that acute could easily become a liability, especially if she overreacted to every perceived slight.

And Crawford didn't like to hear her threatening Tam, even if the threat was a weak one. His foresight worked _better_ around their pyrokinetic leader; he wondered, sometimes, if that was the symbiosis some of the Talents referred to. His visions almost never failed if Tam was concerned in them. Threatening Tam was more than threatening his leader and friend; it was a threat to Crawford's own stability.

"Hey," Sanders said. "Knock it off. He says stuff like that about us all the time."

She looked at him suspiciously. "He says _you're_ an amazing asset."

"He says I eat too much, too," he rejoined. "Come on, don't take it so seriously."

"You do eat too much," Crawford said, and Sanders smacked him on the arm.

"Why don't you train with me tonight, Rain?" Tam suggested. "That way we can work on your skills, and maybe we'll both be happier."

"Fine," she said. "What the hell are we supposed to do today, anyway?"

"Lecture day," Crawford said. "You'll love it."

 

The boy was sitting on his bed again when Crawford had finished dinner. "I hope this bullshit is at least helping."

The redhead grinned that feral, fox's grin again. "I made Old Lady Gottlieb smack herself in the face," he said, with no small measure of delight. "She beat the shit out of me, but it was worth it."

"Let's see," Crawford said. The boy shrugged and turned, just enough to show the curve of his back. He lifted his shirt slightly, and Crawford caught the dark purple and blue left by Frau Gottlieb's riding crop. Crawford winced in sympathy.

"You _are_ human," the redhead observed, his grin widening.

"Shut up," Crawford said. "I don't want you around. You're unstable."

"I'm as stable as anyone else here," the redhead said.

Crawford rolled his eyes; they both knew _that_ didn't mean much. "I just want to read my book, okay?"

"I'll be quiet," the redhead said, curling up at the foot of the bed again. "I'll just sleep, okay?"

"You sleep a lot," Crawford observed, resisting the temptation to poke the boy with his foot.

"High metabolism." The boy yawned. "Gotta keep my energy up."

At least asleep he was quiet, Crawford decided.

 

Rain ate her breakfast in silence the next morning. Crawford didn't have to call on his Talent to realize that it wasn't a good sign. He pushed an extra piece of sausage over to her and she nodded her thanks.

He didn't have much time to think about her odd behavior; the first vision hit hard, almost stunning him. "Tam," he shouted, _"Get down."_ He reached out and pulled Rain, who was just at his right, down with him, hoping Tam would have time to do the same for Sanders.

"You son of a _bitch!"_ Reilly's voice. Reilly was a telekinetic, Tam's age, and powerful. Crawford winced at the noise as the shrapnel flew overhead-- silverware, dishes, a cup of tea. A knife lodged solidly in the chair Tam had been sitting in. Crawford smiled; he'd been able to prevent _that,_ at least.

Rain had her hands over her ears; Crawford could hear the heavy _thump_ of the security team's boots as they ran into the cafeteria, and then a strangled cry as someone slammed into the wall. Crawford couldn't remember Reilly being _that_ strong. "Sanders," he hissed. "Can you--?"

Sanders looked questioningly over at Tam. "Do it," Tam encouraged, and Sanders closed his eyes and concentrated.

As it often did in times of genuine crisis, Crawford's vision spread out; his group was safe, as long as they stayed in place, and he calmed down, hearing his heartbeat slow back down to a normal pace. He could hear the _crack_ of a tranquilizer shot.

"All clear," an adult voice shouted after a minute or two, and the students slowly came out from under the tables. Crawford's vision dropped back to its usual level.

He could see the redheaded boy wiping blood off his face; Reilly had been in his group, Crawford realized, as had the bloody mess at his feet. Fischer. "What the hell happened?" he heard himself asking.

"Reilly went nuts," Bruschi explained; she'd been at the next table over. "I didn't see what set him off, but I saw-- that." She gestured at the lump of what had been Fischer. "After that I was under the table."

"Shit," someone said. Crawford was inclined to agree.

"Schuldig," Herr Reid snapped at the redhead. "Report, _now."_

_Schuldig_. That wasn't a name, that was a _noun_. "They'd been arguing all morning," he said. "Their thoughts were violent, but I didn't realize--"

"You need to be more perceptive," Herr Reid said. "You could have prevented this."

"I'll remember that," Schuldig said. "Their thought patterns were...distinctive. I can use that knowledge."

Herr Reid's smile was diamond-sharp. "Yes," he said. "And you will. Understood?"

Schuldig nodded, a fake deference even Crawford could see through easily. "Understood."

 

"What happened to your third?" Crawford asked Schuldig, when the boy crawled onto his cot that night.

"Can't stop crying," Schuldig said. "Probably headed to the Farm."

"Could you have stopped them?"

Schuldig's eyes caught his. He paused. "Maybe," he said finally.

"You didn't try?"

"Why would I?" Schuldig kicked his shoes off and started settling in. "They never stopped. _He doesn't like me, he's ugly, he's going to stab me the second my back's turned, why doesn't he just use his telekenesis already so I can kill the bastard, does he really think he's a match for me?_ It was giving me headaches." He reached up and scratched at his hair. It still looked matted, but not as filthy as it had been. "That's why I like you," he said, curling up into a ball. "You're quiet."

"You _like_ me?" Crawford asked, but Schuldig was already asleep.

 

Rain was even quieter the next morning, and with no spectacular deaths at the breakfast table, Crawford had the luxury of worrying about it. He pushed his vision forward and could see Rain sitting with them the next morning, but beyond that....

His head began to hurt. "Crawford?"

"It's nothing," he told Tam. "Nothing."

 

"Can I ask you something?" Crawford asked Schuldig that night.

"What?"

"Rain. What's wrong with her?"

A cloud passed over Schuldig's face. He drew up his knees. "You have to answer a question first."

Psychics always talked shit. "What?"

"Do you want to hear the truth?"

"What the fuck kind of stupid question is that? Tell me."

Schuldig bit his lower lip. He looked younger, then, less certain. "They're using her hearing. Trying to drive her crazy."

The words didn't make any sense. "_What_?"

"Tam and Sanders. They're working together. Pulling her hearing out and in, whispering about her, making it sound like other people are talking shit. Tam's an empath, too, you know. He's playing her like a violin."

Crawford shook his head. "You can't know that." Tam wouldn't do that. He was a bastard, but his loyalty to his team was absolute. Crawford had worked with him for almost two years now; he _knew_ Tam, knew him better than anyone did. "You're full of shit."

"That's why I asked you if you wanted to hear the truth," Schuldig said sullenly. "You don't."

"Fuck you," Crawford said. "Get the hell off my bed."

Schuldig shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Crawford didn't miss the presence at the end of the cot.

Not in the slightest.

 

"Hey," Sanders said, shoving his arm. "What's with you?"

Crawford blinked at the obstacle course. "Nothing. I'm just tired."

"Think Rain'll make it through?"

"Why wouldn't she?"

"She's been weird lately," Sanders said. "Haven't you noticed?"

Crawford nodded.

"I don't like it when we have to do it individually anyway." Sanders sat down on one of the barrels at the end of the course. He fished a packet of crisps out of his pocket. "It's a pain." He opened the packet and took a bite. Crawford heard the loud _snap_ of the chips as they broke.

"Will that bother her?"

Sanders shrugged his shoulders. "If it does, she's got a lot more problems than the obstacle course."

It was hard to argue with, but it still didn't feel quite right.

 

"Let's say you're right," Crawford said, when Schuldig showed up again that night. His hair had been trimmed; he looked almost presentable. "Why? Why would they do that?"

"Tam wants to hold on to you," Schuldig said, pulling his feet underneath him. "You're an asset."

"So why would Rain change that?"

"He thinks you might fall in love with her."

Crawford blinked at him in disbelief. Then he started laughing.

"I know it's mad," Schuldig said. "You know it's mad. But he doesn't. He' starting to lose his grip, Crawford."

"I still don't believe you," Crawford said. Tam was important. He was _better_ around Tam; his Talent was always reliable when it came to him. He _needed_ Tam.

He couldn't afford to believe Schuldig, even if it was the truth.

"Can I sleep here or not?" Schuldig said impatiently.

"Do what you want," Crawford snapped, and wasn't sure how he felt when Schuldig stayed.

 

Rain was certainly pretty, Crawford reflected the next morning at breakfast. But he'd never cared about anything like that. He thought Tam knew that.

His porridge was cold, but he forced it down anyway. He'd need the energy; experience told him that as much as his Talent. In the Schloss, you were mad _not_ to doubt people at times. No partnership was permanent; no alliance could be trusted.

But still. _Tam_. It wasn't possible.

There was nothing to do but wait and see. He focused his Talent and tried to look ahead; even a bit of the future might help.

He saw Schuldig, a flurry of fists and anger, descending on Sanders like a thunderstorm.

_Sanders_. Sanders was too inoffensive to be...anything. How could he--?

That decided that. Schuldig was mad, and there was no reason to put up with him. It'd be a cold day in hell before he let _that_ little twerp on his cot again, matron or no matron.

 

The next day was quiet; individual instruction. Herr Mullins was his Talent coach; he had foresight, nothing impressive, but he'd managed to hone it into a valuable tool with discipline and practice. Rosenkruez was confident Crawford would be able to do the same, given time.

"You need to focus," Herr Mullins said.

"I _am_ focused," Crawford protested. "I can see just fine."

"'Just fine' isn't good enough, boy," Daniels snapped. "I've seen what you can do. You're not anywhere near your potential."

"I'm getting better!"

"You're _flat._ You shouldn't be flat. You should be improving." Mullins _slapped_ the table in front of him, and Crawford jumped. "See? You shouldn't be surprised by that. What's wrong with you?"

"There's _nothing_ wrong with me," Crawford insisted, and winced when he heard his voice _squeaking_ just a little. "Let's try it again. I'll do better this time, I promise."

They tried again, and Crawford _did_ improve; not as much as he'd wanted to, though, not as much as he should. "I'm almost there," he said. "I'll be even better next time."

"You'll have to be," Herr Mullins snapped.

Crawford knew what happened to students who didn't make the most of their Talents. If they were lucky, they ended up assisting at the school, generally in the obstacle course.

_If_ they were lucky.

 

"Where's Rain?" he asked at dinner.

"Dunno," Sanders said, shrugging his shoulders.

"Rain's gone," Tam said flatly. "She tried to kill her coach."

Sanders and Crawford looked at one another, trying to hide their alarm. "Why?" Crawford asked.

"Who knows? You know what she was like."

"We'll need a new fourth," Tam said. "They'll be assigned to us tomorrow morning. Enjoy the peace while you can."

"They could at least give us some time to adjust," Sanders said.

"There's been a lot of attrition," Tam explained, pushing peas onto his fork. "They want the new teams ready as soon as possible."

"Maybe they shouldn't let so many people in from the Farm, then," Sanders grumbled.

Crawford ignored them both; he was too busy trying not to think about the person he saw in Rain's empty chair tomorrow morning.

 

"This sucks," Sanders said. "I hate psychics."

"I can hear you thinking," Schuldig called from across the obstacle course. "Get over here and say it to my face."

"I will!" snapped Sanders, and headed out.

"Try not to get killed," groaned Tam, his hand over his face.

"He'll be fine," Crawford said. "Calm down."

Tam raised an eyebrow. "Can you see that?"

"A little," Crawford said.

"You're having a good day," Tam said approvingly.

"Yeah," Crawford said. "I am." He still didn't trust Schuldig, but he was more familiar than a stranger, and he had to admit his Talent worked....

Fine. It worked better around Schuldig. He was a man, he could admit it. It still didn't mean he had to _like_ him or want to work with him. It was probably coincidence, anyway, the relief he felt from not having Rain there to deal with. It didn't mean anything.

"Dammit!" Sanders said, as the next challenge raised its head; Hensley. Crawford had faced him once or twice before; he was tremendously strong, and relentless in the field.

"Hang in there," Tam yelled. "Crawford says you won't die."

Crawford could hear Schuldig snickering all the way across the room.

It was a long day already, and he hadn't even had lunch yet.

 

He did better in the obstacle course than he had in months. Hensley was slow, or Crawford's Talent was sharp, and the obstacles were almost ludicrously easy. Crawford wondered if Herr Mullins was watching.

When he got to the clear area, Schuldig was--

It was his vision, alive, in front of him, Schuldig on his knees, pounding at Sanders' head with his fists. "Don't think that'll work on _me_," he said. "I can still _hit_ you, you fat son of a bitch--"

_"Schuldig!"_ Crawford grabbed at his arm. "Stop it! What are you-- why--"

Schuldig aimed a final, vicious kick at Sanders' face. "Dammit," he snapped, "will you pass out already?"

Crawford yanked harder. "What are you--"

Sanders shuddered and stopped moving.

Schuldig shook his arm out of Crawford's grip. "It wasn't me," he said angrily. "I never fucked with you. Never. Pay attention, dammit."

"I have no idea what--" Crawford stopped. His vision...it was changing. _Alive_. The world splintered into a thousand possibilities, and splintered further from there.

"I don't know why he did it," Schuldig panted. "That's in too deep. But Tam wanted this. It's his idea."

"You're lying," Crawford said, but he already knew better. He knew what the look on Tam's face would be when he completed the obstacle course and saw what Schuldig had done. He knew what Tam would do next--

His stomach dropped. How _could_ Tam have-- why would he--

He knew the answer. This was Rosenkreuz. No one had friends. Everyone did what they had to do to get an edge, to get ahead. He was a fool to have ever trusted Tam at all. He put his hand over his face.

"Cheer up, dumbass," Schuldig said, kicking his ankle. "Now _we've_ got the upper hand."

Sanders was about to wake up. Crawford kneeled down and put a hand gently on his windpipe. "Don't," he said, as Sanders opened his eyes. "I wouldn't recommend it. You're strong, though; you even kept me controlled in your sleep. Impressive."

"I'm sorry," Sanders said through his bloodied lip. "Tam said--"

"It doesn't matter what he said," Crawford said, smiling. "We're going to move forward now. Understood?"

Sanders nodded.

"Good," Crawford said, and straightened up. Tam was almost through now.

"What next?" Schuldig said. It wasn't a question; he was asking for orders.

"Next," Crawford said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, "we make some adjustments to the leadership of this group."

Schuldig chuckled. Crawford looked over at him and saw him older, sharper, acting like a king in a white suit. They weren't alone, either; a different team, people they trusted. People who could change the world. "Okay, 'Senior.'"

"Crawford's fine," he answered. Schuldig would call him that anyway; they might as well start now.


End file.
